A Mellark Goodnight
by ThisIsTrueImmortality
Summary: *Mockingjay spoilers!* A Hunger Games Next Generation story. Peeta wakes in the dead of night to the sound of his daughter's scream. When he tries to comfort Lucerne, he finds that he is not the only Mellark struggling through nightmares.
1. 1: Daddy Will Fight the Monsters

**Author's Note: Yes, another Hunger Games fanfic! And yes, it's second generation. The Mellark family is such a gold mine for one-shots! **

**Sorry if Peeta comes off a little too angsty; I'm still trying to get a hold on everybody's POV, and Peeta is very hard to write (although he makes a great da). :/ *bemused emoticon* I did my best!**

**Song (lyrics from the book, as we all know): .com/watch?v=wrJgGL5oxNQ&feature=related Just so you know, it's Rue's lullaby sung by a male singer. There are surprisingly few on Youtube. Apparently I'm the only one who imagines Peeta singing...**

**Enjoy! Oh, P.S.: there's going to be another chapter! Just two! Now, enjoy!**

A Mellark Goodnight: A Hunger Games Fanfic

1. Daddy Will Fight the Monsters

"Daddy!"

The scream is so full of terror that it goes right through me like a spear. I jerk in bed and am throwing off the covers before I can blink. "Lucerne?"

"Daddy!" This time her voice is a plea.

I race out of our bedroom in a flat run, my own fear mirrored in my voice. "Lucerne? Baby?"

What could be wrong? Should I wake Katniss? This is the one night in two weeks she's slept without any trouble. She didn't even hear our daughter's screams. Should I disturb her? What if Lucerne needs her? I try to calm myself down as I round the corner to Lucerne's room.

Our little girl is sitting up in bed with tears running down her face. She's clutching her blankets like she's afraid she'll be swept away, out the window and into the darkness, if she lets go. When she sees me in the doorway she gives a little sob and holds out her arms. "Daddy!"

When we first had Lucerne, I refused to hold her. Katniss would stare at me with those gray eyes, hurt by my rejection of our child. She never understood why I wouldn't take our baby into my arms until she forced me to explain. That was painful, admitting to my wife that I was afraid of what might happen if I held Lucerne, afraid of what monster would emerge in me. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt my own child. It was bad enough remembering exactly where I had put my hands on Katniss's neck when I had tried to kill her. I didn't know if I could survive even thinking about injuring Lucerne.

After that confession, Katniss had promptly taken four month-old Lucerne from her crib and stood over me while I held my baby for the first time. After that, I had never wanted to let her go.

That's why I waste no time gathering Lucerne to me tonight, cradling her to my chest while she cries. Physical pain runs through me as I quiet her sobbing, wishing I could take every ounce of her fear onto my shoulders. I don't care if it's just a childish fear of the dark; my daughter should not feel scared of anything. She should not cry in the middle of the night. It's wrong. I should protect her.

"What's wrong, Lucerne?" I ask her, wiping her tears away with my fingers.

"I-I had a bad dream," Lucerne sniffs, her tiny arms wrapped around me, hugging her to me.

Nightmares. As if there weren't too many in this house already. I close my eyes but keep my voice calm. "Do you want to tell Daddy about it?" When she nods, I lean back against the wall and pull her into my lap. "Okay, go ahead, sweetie."

With another loud sniff, Lucerne settles against me. "I ran and ran through a big field, and there were monsters-monsters chasing after me, and I couldn't get away." She gulps, more tears squeezing out of her eyes. "Wr-Wrye was running, too, b-but I couldn't catch up to him and he left me all alone. And then-" she breaks off and buries her face in my shirt.

I pet her hair, shushing her fresh bout of crying. "It was just a dream, Lucerne, just a nightmare. It's okay, don't worry." As much as I hate this nightmare she's had, I know I can't shield my daughter from her own dreams. I can only hope my presence comforts her.

"But D-addy, that wasn't the scary part," sobs Lucerne, turning her face up to mine. "The sc-scary part was when I saw you and-and I called for help and you wouldn't h-help me, Daddy, you wouldn't! You kept walking a-w-way from me, Daddy!"

This hits me like a fist to my jaw. I am frozen for a moment, speechless. My Lucerne had a dream where I-her father, her protector, her _daddy_-turned his back on her and walked away to let her face the monsters. It's a nightmare so close to the ones I have at night that I am rendered inert by it.

I find my voice at last. "No, Lucerne, no. I would never do that to you, honey. That was just a dream, baby."

"It was so scary," says Lucerne, her big gray eyes-Katniss's eyes-wide and disoriented, even now. "Daddy...am I awake?" Another pair of tears leak from those eyes.

"Yes," I rush to tell her. "That was a nightmare, Lucerne. You're safe here." _Oh, please let it be true_, I think silently. No more fear in our house, at least not tonight.

"But, Daddy, it was real," Lucerne says, breaking my heart. "The monsters-got me!"

I am stopping this right here; this ends tonight, right now. I take my daughter's hands in my own and hold them tightly, staring into her huge, Mockingjay eyes. "Lucerne, I'll tell you something that will always be true. It'll help you with your nightmares, okay?"

She nods, her wet and braided hair dancing. I continue. "Whenever you wonder if something is real or not real, I want you to remember this: I love you. If you're in a place where I don't love you, it isn't real. If you're running from those monsters-" I have to muster all my strength not to choke on the word, "and I don't turn around and beat them on their snouts for trying to hurt you, it's not real. I love you, and I always will. That will always, _always_ be real."

"Always?" Lucerne repeats, her voice tremulous.

I sweep her into the biggest hug I can give. "Always."

With the speed of childhood trust, my baby forgives me, Dream-Peeta and Real-Peeta all in one swoop: she throws her arms around me and kisses me sloppily on the cheek. I kiss her back and pull her sheets down. "Now, it's time to go back to sleep. I'll stay till those monsters go away, all right?"

"Okay," Lucerne agrees as we snuggle down into the covers. "Daddy? Sing."

Sing? No matter how many times they ask, I'm always a little self-conscious when my children request a lullaby. Compared to the unearthly beauty of my wife's voice, my singing leaves several octaves to be desired. But I can't refuse to sing for Lucerne. I promised to chase the monsters away.

I clear my throat and begin, laying my hand on my daughter's head as she gazes at me:

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow,  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow,  
Lay down your head, and close your eyes,  
And when they open, the sun will rise._

Here it's safe, and here it's warm,  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm,  
Here your dreams are sweet,  
And tomorrow brings them true,  
Here is the place where I love you...


	2. 2: Mommy Will Sing the Monsters Asleep

**Author's Note: And here' my first ever Katniss POV! I think it turned out really well. :) It's hard for me to imagine what it would be like in her poor, image-scarred head. I also am not a mother, so that angle of the story might seem a little forced. However, I did the best I could!**

**Song: .com/watch?v=E-iMFtU1TrE Slumber My Darling, sung by Alison Krauss. It's actually on an album entitled "Appalachian Journey," so it's very appropriate for the series. I can picture Katniss singing it to her children.**

**Enjoy! May the odds be ever in your favor!**

2. Mommy Will Sing The Monsters Asleep

"Mommy!"

I am catapulted from my dreams of fire and war straight into a panic. Who's calling for me? "That's Wrye," mumbles Peeta, still half-asleep as he rolls over.

"I know," I snap at him, flinging the covers off my side of the bed and drawing my night robe on. It's all one swift, smooth motion, rather like the way I take an arrow from the quiver and put it to the bow. I nearly trip over something on the floor. "Peeta!"

My husband doesn't answer, but his deep breathing says it all. I shove the errant boot under the bed, muttering a choice word under my breath. If he can't even put his boots where they belong-

"Mommy, help!"

Wrye! "I'm coming, baby, I'm coming!" I call, forgetting my annoyance at Peeta when I hear my son's cry. I pitch forward through the doorway and run through the house, my robe sticking to my pajamas with static, making a crackling sound.

Wrye lets out a whimper I can hear from my position in the house, still a good fifteen feet away. The sounds sticks into me like a needle. "Don't worry, Wrye, Mama's coming," I tell him loudly, rushing into his room.

Huddled up in his sheets, Wrye looks even smaller than usual. When I flick on the lamp switch at the door I see the tears smeared across his face. "Oh, baby, it's all right." I cross to his bed and sit down, pulling my son to me.

Wrye clutches at me, his hands seizing the folds of my night robe. "Mommy," he says tearfully, nestling his blonde head into my waist. I comb through his hair and rock him back and forth until he stops crying, and then I just hold him silently, kissing his tiny forehead.

It's an odd time for the thought to emerge, but I can't help thanking Peeta for being one of the most stubborn and persistent men I know. It was all his idea, ever since the war ended-getting re-engaged, getting married, having a real wedding. And, ten whole years after the wedding, finally persuading me to let go of my fear and give one more piece of myself to this war-torn world: our daughter, Lucerne. Once she was born, of course, my fear dissolved. There was no greater joy than looking at my baby-_our_ baby-and marveling at her beauty.

At the time, I had thought there was nothing greater than having a baby. What I didn't know was how wonderful it was to have two babies. And while I can't help but feel a little proud when I see my features reflected in Lucerne, I practically ooze contentment that my youngest child looks just like my husband.

Haymitch says the hair is a dead giveaway that Wrye is definitely Peeta's son. It's true that they share the same golden hair, although in Wrye it turns almost white in the summer. But I don't see this trait as the one that stands out the most between them. For me, it's the eyes; their expression and their clarity.

Wrye's eyes are staring at me now, big and blue. Beautiful. Innocent. Sheer with tears. Just like Peeta's. "What's bothering my little sparrow?" I ask him, wiping his nose with my sleeve. "Not a bad dream, I hope." When he nods, I hug him to me. "Oh, no. What can Mommy do to make it better?"

"Kiss," Wrye answers, and I lean down and plant a kiss on his head. "Now can we snuggle?" He looks up miserably. "I'm still scared."

I laugh. My boy is so sweet I have a hard time saying no to him about anything. I stretch myself out on the bed, tucking the sheets around my son. "Well, maybe if you tell me all about your dream the scariness will go away."

"Will it?"

"Maybe. I tell Daddy about my scary dreams, and that always helps."

Wrye shuts his eyes and wiggles closer to me. "My dream was very bad. I dreamed I saw Daddy and Lucerne in a big river. There were monsters in the river, Mommy, big monsters. They were going to eat Daddy."

My mind returns to the nightmare I had been trapped in when Wrye's call woke me: there had been monsters in my dream, too, muttations the size of cars rampaging through District 12, ripping open houses and dragging out my family and friends. I had watched, screaming, as Peeta and my children were thrown amongst a group of the horrors. My hand comes out and curls protectively around my son as I remember the dream.

"Daddy's just fine, Wrye. He's sleeping still," I say, to reassure us both.

"The monsters didn't get him?" whispers Wrye, and the uncertainty in his voice makes my heart sink.

I pat his head. "No, no, there aren't any monsters around tonight. Even if there are, Daddy's big and strong and knows how to keep them away from us. He'll keep us all safe."

Peeta. My savior, ever the constant in my shifting world. Strong and brave, more couragious than I am by far. It still irritates me that my husband gets so little respect for what he did in the war. After all, it wasn't his fault he was captured and tortured; it was mine. And yet I'm forced to accept the credit for Peeta's sacrifices. Sacrifices neither of us ever wanted to make.

"Mommy, I don't want Daddy to fight the monsters for us," Wrye says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Why, baby?"

"I don't want him to get hurt," Wrye says, as if it's obvious.

"I don't want him to, either," I reply, ruffling his hair.

My children are off to the right start, I tell myself. They sound more and more like their father every day.

"Are you okay now, sweetheart?" I ask Wrye, noticing the absence of tears on his face.

Wrye nods and hugs me tightly. "I want to go back to sleep. Will you sing, Mommy?"

"Of course."

And so, with a son I never hoped to have resting gently in my arms, I lift up the voice I never thought I'd hear again and begin an ancient lullaby, mending the words so they suit me better:

_Hush, little baby, don't say a word, _

_Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird,_

_And if that mockingbird don't sing, _

_Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring..._


End file.
